Page 59 of Two Hit Wonder

"I know." Iona kept dabbing. She wasn’t sure she could stop. Maeve from this angle was… breathtaking. "But I want to."

She looked up again, and Maeve was staring down at her with an expression that made Iona's breath catch. Something raw and wanting and completely unguarded.

"Iona." Maeve's voice was rough.

"Yes?"

"You're kneeling in a puddle of coffee."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Well." Iona smiled up at her. "It's a good thing I wore dark jeans."

Maeve made a sound that might have been a laugh, might have been a groan, might have been both. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told." She took hold of the back of one of Maeve’s thighs, steadying herself, catching her breath, and she thought Maeve moaned. Groaned, perhaps. She thought that if they weren’t here, if there was no one else, then this would be the moment, then this…

The waitress returned with a mountain of napkins and more apologies. Iona accepted them gracefully, cleaned up what she could, and returned to her own seat. Her knees were definitely wet, and she would probably smell like coffee for the rest of the day, but the look on Maeve's face had been worth it. The memory would be worth it.

They sat for a moment, the situation settling over them. And then, at almost exactly the same time, they both started laughing.

"This is ridiculous," Maeve said, still half-laughing. "This whole thing is ridiculous."

"Completely ridiculous," Iona agreed. "Is that a problem?"

"I don't know. I do think that you almost committed a public indecency just then." She paused, lifted an eyebrow. "And I think that I rather wanted you to." She took a breath, a deep, steadying one. "Iona, I don't know if I can do this. I haven't been in a relationship in fifteen years. I don't think I know how anymore."

"I'm not asking for guarantees," Iona said. "No expectations. Just… this. Us. Seeing what happens. Maybe getting a proper ending this time. Or a proper middle. Or something."

"You're asking me to try something I'm terrible at."

"I'm asking you to try something with me." Iona leaned forward. "And for what it's worth, I've always liked you. Even when you were impossible. Even when you left. Even when I was married to other people and trying very hard not to think about you."

"You were thinking about me?"

"Constantly. Annoyingly. It was very inconvenient. Not to mention unfair to the people I happened to be married to."

Something shifted in Maeve's expression. "I thought about you too, if you want the embarrassing truth."

"I do want the embarrassing truth. I want all of it." Maeve shook her head, but she was almost smiling. "We can work on it together." Iona said. "Like the music. Build it as we go."

"I'll still be awkward. And rude. And unthinking sometimes."

"I know."

"I'll probably say terrible things when I'm scared."

"And I'll call you out on it." Iona reached across the table. "That's how it works. You mess up, I tell you, we figure it out. You don't get to ruin this by being difficult, Maeve. I won't let you."

Maeve looked at Iona's outstretched hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, carefully, she took it.

Their fingers interlaced. Iona felt something settle into place, something she hadn't even known was missing. She'd been waiting fifteen years for this, even when she hadn't known she was waiting. Two marriages to people who weren't Maeve. Years of wondering what if. And now here they were, in a cafe that smelled like spilled coffee, holding hands across a sticky table.

"Let me in," Iona said quietly. "That's all I'm asking."

Maeve's grip tightened. "I'm not good at letting people in."